


A Mating Most Fowl

by littlemisskiara



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha Gabriel, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Cat!Gabriel, M/M, Mates, Mating, Omega Sam, Peacock!Sam, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Spiking, Tomcat!Gabriel, cross-species mating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-09
Updated: 2014-08-09
Packaged: 2018-02-12 10:26:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2106207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlemisskiara/pseuds/littlemisskiara
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam is an omega!peacock and Gabriel is an alpha!tomcat.</p><p>Need I say more?</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Mating Most Fowl

**Author's Note:**

> Based off this comment: <http://archiveofourown.org/comments/12315453>
> 
>  
> 
> [FYI Gabriel's catform looks like this to me (in this fic anyway)](http://img2.wikia.nocookie.net/__cb20110810165814/warriorcatsrp/images/2/26/Patches.jpg)

Sam wasn't supposed to be . . . _this_.

He was large, formidable. If it weren't for the color of his damn _feathers_.

Dean had it good. He always knew he'd be an alpha. The most gorgeous feathers for a hundred flocks, Indian emerald and apple greens and cerulean blues and plush pinks, matching sunny-forest eyes, blushing cheeks with high cheekbones and striking freckles and strength of a thousand betas, didn't matter what species they were. Could even take down alphas of other species. Yeah, Dean was an alpha alright.

But Sam . . . Sam wasn't. And each day that passed proved that theory more and more.

His colors were hen-like. His soft cheekbones are dusted with the glinting down reminiscent of his african-cousin-hens. Hazel eyes and dusky browns and subtle hints of blush and hardly any blues. A few yellow undertones, but even his eyelets were a bright malachite instead of teal. An oddity that Sam had sussed out when he was fourteen. Even with the largest tail span and a little more strength than necessary, there was no doubt Sam was anything close to an alpha.

It was a trait not seen in these flocks for the last few generations.

Yeah. Sam was an omega.

A _male_ omega.

There's no way John would be able to accept such a _disgrace_.

Couldn't even play off his coloring as Congolese, no where even close to it.

No matter where he went he'd always have the colors of a hen. Because technically, he was. And John, after the initial anger and screaming match, would no doubt sell him to make a tidy profit. He'd be a rare prize in a harem. Most male omegas had next to no alpha traits, tails nearly non-existent and strength the same – unless their young are threatened, then no alpha on this good green planet would be able to stop a male hen.

In 2 weeks, John would sell him. Because in 2 weeks, there'd be no more hiding.

Sam was 14, and in 2 weeks it'll be mating season. The flocks will converge and the mating rut will start, fighting and dancing and preening and triumphant cooing. And Sam would chirp and _slick_ and be drawn to the deep rumbling love calls the alphas intone.

And John would see and he would _know_.

Sam's spent 14 years pretending that he's not attracted to alphas, pretending that he doesn't want a mate to pin him and part his feathers and _take_ _him_.

But in 2 weeks, all that pretending will be all for nothing.

That's why, he's leaving. Now. _Tonight_.

Long locks tied back with a tight wreathe of Dean's fallen plumes – Dean having a matching one of Sam's feathers wrapped round his wrist – and tail taught to his body, he sneaks past the guards; watching for anything coming _in_ they are unconcerned for those going _out_.

Embracing the cold night air is not hard for the soon-to-present omega, tones of greens erupting over his pale skin like a coat, tiny feathers invisible in all but color to the naked eye. Sam hasn't perfected shifting yet, having only been able to move back and forth between human and fowl for four years now. Having spent the bulk of his life as a peacock – effeminate but still a peacock all the same – he's still a bit uncertain in his human skin. Like most of his kind he spends the majority of his time in _limbo_ – that's what Dean calls the “half-shifted phase”. Lesswordy.

With the coat of down, he heads off towards town. An hour north on foot, at least. But that's not a challenge, the challenge will be finding a place to stay. He's got enough cash to sustain him for a good while, but the questions are; does he settle, or move on? Does he call to reassure Dean he's alright tomorrow, or wait till he's settled, or not at all? That last one he shakes off because _fuck that_ he's not gonna leave his brother without an explanation. Far as Sam is concerned Dean was always his alpha.

 _Okay, no, ew._ Not in _that_ sense _._

Sam cringes at the unwelcome thought, suddenly realizing that yeah he's made the right choice in leaving because _hello?!_ John would have either sold him or _mated him to his brother_.

The practice isn't taboo, nor is Sam generally against it as a rule but . . . _ew_.

His brother that raised him and treats him like his own chick, no way would he or Dean for that matter, be down for mating with one another.

Dean was always his alpha in the sense that . . . what is it wolves call their head alphas? Pack masters? Well, the point is that Sam deferred to Dean's rule.

Yeah, the omega grins ruefully, Sam'll call his brother as soon as possible.

40 or so minutes into his journey Sam's searching the area when he spots a grove of fruit trees. Smiling gleefully now he turns into the orchard and spies around the tree trunks for a meal. After a few twists and spirals he finds himself under a sprawling, gorgeous peach tree. Even in the night, with the moon radiating above, he can see the gorgeous fruit hanging like jewels from the sprouting branches.

He's either tall enough to pluck them easily, or the tree is that short, he has no patience to wonder between the two, his gut is suddenly so empty and rumbling to life he cannot pick the delicious fruit fast enough. With a pluck and a bite Sam's got the heavenly sweetness tucked into his mouth and bathing his tongue. White peaches, then, Sam's favorite. Wintery and chilled and reminding him of cool water on the beach. Dean always told him that that analogy never made sense to him, but Sam only ever smiled and replied with his customary “Jerk.”

“Bitch.”

And now he's digging into his saving graces one after another and moaning happily as they appease his wallowing stomach.

“You've got quite the appetite, Sasquatch.”

Sam stills, eyes flying open, breathing dampened, before he swallows the last bite in his mouth and spins cautiously like a turning rack to meet the voice.

A whistle greets him followed by a glint of fangs in the moonlight and a lecherous once-over. All from a white and brown tomcat leaning lazily 'gainst an apple tree. Golden-hazel eyes stare at him with that incandescence reserved for the feline species that makes Sam's heart speed up a notch and his need to breathe return with a vengeance. He can feel his hands itching to do something, either grab a weapon or latch on to the predator – he's unsure which – but either way fingers clenching and unclenching partway into fists. Jerky movements that send uncertain impulses to the rest of his cells.

_Stop it, body, you are not being helpful._

The tomcat is leant against the apple tree. Shoulder resting there as he looks over the fowl, light and brown tail swishing languidly around his crossed legs. Arms crossed over his chest more for aesthetic and balance purposes than protection. One light brown ear is flickered down and back while his right stands at attention nearly parallel to the tree trunk. Flickered slightly forward, Sam can see that at the base of the ear there's a patch of matching brown, but that the rest is a creamy white.

“What's your name, kiddo?”

Sam doesn't respond, just feels his throat close tight and his eyes widen and his feet shuffle back, tail slightly splaying in a way that has the tomcat's eyes glinting because _holy shit_ the cat's an _alpha_.

“C'mon, Moose. _What's your name?_ ” A mischievous smile eclipses everything else as the tomcat uses his second-sex to his advantage. Alpha voice layered thick into the question this time. And, try as he might, Sam wants nothing more than obey the alpha.

“Sam.”

“Well, Samantha – ”

Sam cries, a sound indicating distress and anger and this time there's a good deal of both in the sound, the tomcat's eyes widening because yeah he's probably never heard that sound before.

“Not too fond of that name, now, are ya?” The tomcat doesn't give him any time to respond. “I'm Gabriel.”

“Gabriel.” Sam doesn't mean to repeat the name, it just kinda falls from his lips in a caressing tone that causes a slight blush to paint his cheeks. The tomcat stalls at the sound, lips open and fangs apparent and Sam's enthralled. He thinks he can even see the slight dilation of the alpha's pupils, but having almost no knowledge of those iridescent feline-eyes, he can't be sure what he sees.

The tomcat closes his mouth. A hard task, it appears. And swallows. _Hard_.

“Where are you coming from, _S a m_?” For some reason, it seems hard for the alpha to get his name past his lips, something that makes Sam's eye narrow incredulously.

“My flock . . .”

“And where are you going?” Sam doesn't respond. There's not really an answer he can give. Not an accurate one, that is, and for some reason he doesn't want to lie or give half-truths to this alpha. Only truths. Full-truths. Court-of-law truths. (Well, the truths that are _supposed_ to be in courts of law.) Gabriel seems to understand. He nods once, face composed and thinking, before pushing off from the tree with a slight press of his tail to the bark. Now standing with arms unfolded, he holds out a paw to the ave who stares at it uncomprehendingly for a few minutes, before meeting those supernaturally bright eyes with wide ones of his own. “Well, are you coming?” He doesn't know what's happening or what to do.

His mouth opens, then closes again, and when a sound finally does come out, after a few more times of opening and closing and nothing all that escapes is a premature chirp.

______________________________________________

 

Gabriel doesn't touch him.

At least, he doesn't force him or anything. After Sam's splay and chirp in the grove, when alpha peacocks would have taken the displayed and mated with them then and there, Gabriel simply took Sam's hand with a raucous grin and led him back to his house.

The tomcat lived just outside of a residential neighborhood in a bungalow that from the outside appears run-down and out-of-use, discouraging solicitors and generally anybody from going anywhere near it. Truth-be-told it looked slightly haunted. But that was the desired affect, because if it weren't it would be gorgeous. This was proven when Sam stepped into the most gorgeous home he'd ever had the pleasure of entering – not that he'd had the privilege of being in a lot of homes before. It was wooden and bright and airy with windows galore and open spaces and instead of big bulky furniture there was a small coffee table and pillows and blankets and a TV displaying the same show that Dean cannot get enough of.

The sight of Dr. Sexy brings a bright smile to Sam's face.

When he turns back to Gabriel, however, the smile falls to a more scared expression because _oh_ _Melek Taus_ , Gabriel was looking at him like he wanted to devour him – in hindsight, that realization should have frightened him, but it didn't, only made him want to flare his plumes and chirp his need and have the alpha mate him till he was carrying cat-fowl hybrids that would be the most beautiful creatures on the face of this good green planet.

He doesn't devour him.

But he does kiss him, soft and sweet and tasting like white peach and sugary green apple **.**

________________________________________________

 

Two weeks pass quickly, and Sam nearly forgets why he ran away in the first place. He does pick up the phone every now and then and anticipates calling Dean, but then Gabriel's there, and he gets kisses and sweets and, and he forgets until the next time.

Sam learns quickly that Gabe's not just any alpha tomcat, but that he's a _smug_ tom cat who lounges around expecting humans to wait on him. And _they do_ ! The residential neighborhood he lives near is teeming with elderly and children and everyday he shifts completely into a – and Sam will admit this quite readily – _gorgeous_ specimen of feline-icity, then go to a porch or yard of on a fence and await the belly-rubs and catnip and cat treats that are just waiting for him.

But that's not all. Oh no. He's also a trickster. He knocks over potted plants, tears up flowerbeds, hides things, he's also got a reputation for stealing things from one house and putting them in another as well as leaving bloody presents on pillows and porches and then looking so kittenishly innocent after doing all these naughty things that everyone forgets after a small scolding and go straight back to belly rubs and treats and catnip.

It's infuriating.

So, after two weeks of Sam learning about Gabe's life and his habits and falling completely in love with the trickster tomcat, Sam is surprised when he feels the change overtaking his body **.**

______________________________________________

 

Gabriel's at home today, having stocked up on food and supplies and not wishing to leave the sanctity of his own territory for a while, feeling the need for attention and trickery less and less since stumbling upon Sam in the grove.

Sam and him are in the backyard, enjoying the sun, the lackadaisical ambience is nice and Sam snuggles up to the alpha's side cozily.

The day's been getting warmer and warmer steadily and Sam's getting uncomfortable. Shifting, he clamors onto Gabriel, who lets out a soft _oomphf!_

Sam's head is on his chest, arm draped over his side as his body lies comfortably on the cat's, left leg wedged between the tom's, feathers spread wide like a fan, an airy blanket over their heated flesh. Gabe's hand naturally travels up, stroking mindlessly through the plumes with gentle hands, tugging softly every now and then. Sending tingles racing across the omega's skin, nerves alight and smile giddily infectious. The cat kisses the fowl's temple gently as his cookies'n'cream tail wraps itself around the hen, hand finding the point where plumes meet spine easily, something they've done before. Something that's never gotten this reaction before. When the pressure touches the juncture of human and animal Sam mewls, a chirp erupting, body beginning to quake as Gabriel's silent massage stops. Stillness in the cat has Sam squirming, whines coming from somewhere deep in his gut as a deep need settles inside. Redhot and _aching_. Gabriel, hesitantly, presses against the spot again and Sam cries out, a wave of slick gushing from his unhidden hole.

Being shifters, neither feels uncomfortable or embarrassed naked, so they tend to spend their time as such. Being aroused is just a biological reaction. But this, _this_ is different. This is _need_. And Sam needs Gabriel like a planet needs trees, water, like he needs oxygen.

His heat is in full-swing and his alpha's here and he _needs_ him.

With one more press to that spot, he whimpers and Gabriel's gripping his hair and pulling his head just far enough for him to smash their mouths together in a violent mockery of a kiss that has Sam scrambling and _he most certainly does not squeal_ as Gabe punishes his coccyx, leaving Sam breathless, his hole gushing, slick running down his thighs and balls and onto the tomcat beneath him. If it weren't for the pressure keeping him down Sam would've already been presenting and begging his alpha to knot . . . no . . . _spike_ him. Oh gods, Gabriel was a tomcat. That thought should've had Sam running away, the realization that Gabriel, his mate, his alpha was going to rake him inside and out should've scared him but he _didn't care_. He's _empty_ and he _needs_.

 _Matematematemate_ is the only thought in his mind.

“Mouthy, aren't ya, Samsquatch?” Gabe manages, voice dark and dangerous after a particularly loud scream from his omega has the hazel nearly gone from his eyes, the black pools deep and endless and Sam can't look anywhere else, can only mewl and rock his hips against his alpha's and feel his thick cock trapped between them, small spines plucking his skin, his own cock small in comparison but leaking all the same.

“Gonna mate you, breed you up, you want that Sammy?” Gabriel's hand is still massaging his coccyx as Sam nods vigorously, but with his other he journeys down and Sam smiles happily, thinking his mate's going to touch him, spread him wide and make him ready, but instead he rubs once twice around his rim before moving lower. The bypass has Sam near crying with disappointment before a pressure has him _screaming_ in pleasure. The combined sensations of his tailbone and taint being massaged in tandem has him incoherent with need, babbling and chirping and so out of control of his own body he's _so close_.

“Gabe, Gabriel, Gabriel, _Gabriel_!” Sam _shrieks_ when a finger finally _finally_ breeches him, Gabriel's lips crashing against his and his tongue plundering his mouth as he searches for treasure.

When he finds his prize there's not even a second between purchase and release.

As Gabriel's finger swipes over Sam's prostate, sending a shock of lightning-bright need through the hen, thumb still massaging his taint while his other hand works magic on his tailbone, Sam's entire body bows, back arching as he locks up, unable to breath, tears streaming at the overwhelming sensations as he cums, painting their chests, a stripe landing on his alpha's cheek. Sam's lips are trembling, body quivering as he's stroked through his orgasm.

If asked to describe the sensation Sam would say it's like the exhileration between falling and _falling_. Just before you've landed and you're in the air and there's that point of fear before you land safely and that relief. That _relief_.

 _That's_ the feeling.

Gabriel kisses his bared neck and Sam begins to come back to himself, wrapping his arms back around his mate and running fingers through his hand, finding his ears and petting them, a lethargic feeling having come over him as he looks at his kitten. Those eyes are still staring at him like he's a delicacy he wants to devour and Sam reaches around with shaking hands, divesting himself of his alpha's massaging touch before maneuvering over his still straining cock. Eye-contact never wavering, he slowly impales himself on the felid. Breath catching at the thick girth and going slow as molasses, he sinks down millimeter by millimeter, Gabriel's lips touching his again and again in a lingering poem of kisses as he whispers how good he's doing. “Such a good boy,” “fuck, that's it baby” “feels so good around me” words that have Sam mewling and happy and his omega preening under his alpha's praise, slick practically gushing. When he's finally fully seated, his mate's entire girth inside him, Sam is breathing deep and there's no pain, just him savoring the pleasure of being so _full_ of his mate's cock.

When he looks up from where his gaze had fallen to the place their bodies meet – the steady throb of his mate's pulse inside him having been a beacon that had him enraptured by the sight and feel, each beat a blessed gift that had his toes curling – Sam finds Gabriel staring at the same spot, fangs sprouted and eyes completely overtaken by the black as he gawks at where he's buried inside his omega. When he looks back up to meet his mate's gaze his eyes widen, seeing the display of feathers behind. Spread and wanton and colors playing so beautifully in the sun that Gabriel can't stop the growl that erupts from him as he grabs his mate by the hips.

With a sharp _pull_ up that has Sam screaming in pleasure-pain he pulls almost all the way out, the mushroom headed tip just inside the heavenly slicked hole, before thrusting up with a _snap_ that has Sam screaming in _nothing else_ but bliss. A euphoric expression overtakes the omega's features and his smile is breathtaking as Gabriel pounds into him endlessly, thrusts synced and sharp and determined as his alpha roars. Those beautiful feathers swaying up and down in golds and emeralds and dusty browns, deserts and plains and jungles mesmerizing the tomcat, a swell of pride blooding as he takes in the sight of his dazzling mate. His extended claws nip at the hen's hips, grip bruising as his possession swells along his pride, but Sam only basks in his mate in limbo, moaning and chirping with each poignant thrust that has his toes curling and his back arching and he's so close again. The cock is hard and bouncing, slapping against his lower belly with each and every rapturous impalement.

When the head of his cock finds Sam's prostate will pinprick precision he's fallen, _again_. With a final scream Sam clenches around Gabriel, cum spurting across his alpha's chest to mix with the first batch, and his mate is arching beneath him, tail flicking erratically, girth going in up to the hilt and stealing Sam's breath as he's stretch to his fullest as his mate cums deep inside of him.

With panting breaths Sam falls onto his mate, arms heavy as he brings them close. Gabriel's arms wrapping possessively around him and in his post-orgasmic haze he barely feels it as Gabriel's teeth sink deep into his neck, the sensation halting his breath and bringing tears to his eyes as it's made official. They're mates.

_They're mates._

When Gabriel pulls off, licking at the wound lovingly, Sam moves just enough to capture his lips, a murmured “I love you” falling between them. Who says it is anyone's guess.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I know I should be editing my other fics, but this came first. Sorry, baes.
> 
> (btb this _may_ become something more . . . but I'm not holding my breath)


End file.
